Farewell
by Helen Fayle
Summary: Another oldie, rather apocryphal now. Another funeral, a few goodbyes. A stand-alone sequel to Mags Halliday's "Even Roses Die" (Not archived)


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Farewell.

By Helen Fayle

(Inspired by "Even Roses Die" by Mags L Halliday)

"The bottom line is, whatever I said about saving the world, the real reason I wanted to see the universe was because I thought it was bright and funny and exciting. I was like a six-year-old who'd been let loose on the galaxy. And so was Sarah. That was Sarah exactly."

Her voice had caught as she'd said the last words, and she stepped down off the podium hurriedly, lest the tears show too soon. Damn it, she was supposed to be stronger than this, wasn't she?

But you don't say goodbye to your best friend every day.

She might have seen the couple for the first time then, as she made her way out of the hall, towards the car that would take her to the wake. They might have been standing at the doors when she left: She had a vague memory later of that: A tall slim man with a neat beard and long red hair, dressed in a long black duster, standing with a petite brunette woman with waist length hair, and a surprisingly familiar smile.

Might have. She didn't remember.

But she saw them again whilst making the usual noises at the wake. Shaking hands, so sad, yes, I'd known her for years, nice to meet you.

They didn't mix with the rest of the guests - didn't even look as if they belonged, somehow. 

And there really was something familiar about them both, even though they were perfect strangers to her.

Never one to just sit down and let these things pass by, Sam Jones walked over to the couple.

"Hi, were you friends of Sarah's?" she asked. She stuck her hand out. "Sam Jones."

"Vivienne," the woman replied, with a smile. She shook Sam's hand firmly. "And my friend here is Taliesin." 

Sam took his offered hand, and took a good look at him, wishing for a moment she was a good ten years younger. He had, she thought, the most drop dead gorgeous come to bed eyes… Pale green, they seemed to draw her in… 

…so familiar… yet not.

"Forgive us, we didn't want to intrude."

Sam dragged her gaze back to the woman - Vivienne? 

Familiar hazel eyes, that easy grin, set in a heart shaped face…

"Are you a relative of Sarah's" she asked.

Vivienne smiled. "Distantly, you could say."

That explained it, thought Sam.

"Quite a turn out," said the man, looking around. 

"She was popular," Sam said quietly. "Even if she did tread on a lot of toes doing her job."

"They didn't find a body, did they?"

His voice, Sam thought, was so pleasant. Soft, seductive, yet so intense.

"No." Tears pricked her eyes. She'd been dying, that much had been certain. The whole thing was still a mystery. 

They'd found a battered copy of the Morte d'Artur on the bedside table, next to a small bunch of roses. But no sign of Sarah…

She'd wondered, sometimes, if maybe…

Taliesin reached out a long fingered hand and cupped her chin. "Everything comes to an end sometimes. That's the nature of the tale." Bending forward, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. "But sometimes, there is another volume. Remember that." 

She wasn't sure why she allowed him to be so familiar. But somehow, it seemed - well, right. The woman took her hand again, in a gesture of farewell, then kissed her cheek. 

"Goodbye," she whispered. 

Then they were gone, leaving only a memory, and a scent of roses.

Afterwards, when the guests had gone, she sat for a while amidst the detritus - paper plates, half empty wine glasses, the occasional vol au vont stuck to the parquet floor - and remembered.

A small flash of colour caught her eye, and she bent down for a closer look. A playing card, she thaught at first - but no, this was larger. She picked it up.

The back had a design of Celtic knotwork on it, in green and white. Turning it over, she revealed the design to be the thirteenth card from the Major Arcana of the Tarot deck . Death. Only this one was a red robed figure, holding a scythe, standing in front of a white rose, outlined very delicately.

"From the Robin Wood deck, " said a voice from behind her. Sam turned, and saw Maguire. The older woman took the card from her. "Nice deck. If a bit kinky in places. You should see 'The Lovers'"

"A sick joke if someone left this here," Sam said shortly. Maguire shrugged.

"Depends. In traditional tarot circles, the card symbolises change - a drastic rebirth or cutting free from the past." She put her arm around Sam. "Come on, let's go home."

Sam placed her arm around Maguire, and left the hall, the card falling unfelt from her fingers, lying face up in the shadow of the open doorway.

Notes: Apologies to Lawrence Miles for the opening paragraph, which is quoted from "Interference Book 1", and a thank you to Susannah Tiller for the use of Jacqueline Maguire.


End file.
